Of Fathers and Sons
by Koinaka
Summary: Kurt always knew that his dad was keeping something from him. When his dad goes missing, he'll discover just how big that secret was.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Warnings: pre-series for both shows in this chapter. Will contain spoilers for up to Season 2 of Glee and I would say up to Season 3 of Supernatural.

No pairings for now.

Of Fathers and Sons

By _Koinaka_

_By the pricking of my thumbs,  
Something wicked this way comes._  
-Macbeth, Act IV, scene 1, lines 44-45

Chapter One

Kurt was seven the first time he realized that his dad wasn't like other dads. He used to be gone for long periods of time—days, weeks, once even for an entire month. Business trips, his mom called them. While his dad was gone, his mom would take care of their tire shop. Even though Kurt hated for his dad to leave, he always loved it when his mom took care of the shop because she always let him answer the phone when it rang, so long as he remembered to speak clearly when he answered.

It wasn't until his dad came home severely injured from one of those business trips that Kurt knew something didn't quite add up.

It was supposed to be a short one—only a weekend—but it had coincided with one of his piano recitals. His dad had promised—_promised—_that he would be there, that he would be home by Sunday afternoon so that he could go.

Sunday morning came, but his dad was nowhere to be found.

"He'll be here," his mom assured him.

When he still wasn't back by the time they had to leave, his mom looked worried, but still assured him that he would be there.

"We'll just go now, so you won't be late, and he can meet us there," she told him with a bright smile on her face. "And afterward, the three of us can go get ice cream."

But when Kurt's turn finally came, his dad still wasn't there. His mom was there, sitting in the front row, but the seat next to her—the one they'd saved for his dad—was empty. It was the first time his dad had ever broken a promise to him.

Kurt watched out his bedroom window for the rest of the day, straining to catch even a glimpse of his father's beat-up truck, but none ever came.

He woke up later that night to yelling. He slipped out of his room and down the stairs as quietly as he could, being sure to avoid the creaky one, so that he could hear what was being said.

His dad was on the couch, but his face was bruised and swollen, and his chest was wrapped up with white bandages. There was another man there, standing next to the coach with his arms folded across his chest.

"What in the world were you thinking, John Winchester, dragging him along for one of your suicide jobs? You could have gotten him killed—you could have both been killed!" his mom was yelling at the man, which was really bad, Kurt knew, because she only ever yelled if she was really angry.

She didn't even give the man a chance to answer, spinning around and pointing a finger at his dad instead. "And _you! _Do you know how worried I was when you didn't show up this morning, when you didn't even bother to call? How upset _Kurt _was that you missed his recital? He waited for you all day long, you know, sitting in front of his window."

The other man began talking to his mom in a low tone that Kurt couldn't quite hear, even when he moved down another two steps—the lowest he could go without being seen—but that seemed to do nothing but make her mad.

"Get _out!_ And the next time you decide you want to get yourself killed, leave my husband out of it!"

The next thing Kurt heard was the thud of the front door being closed.

It was a long time before he heard his mom again.

"I can't do this anymore, Burt. I just can't."

His dad sighed. "What do you want me to do, Mollie? Want me to just stop?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "I do. I want you to stop."

There was another long pause. "You know that I can't."

"Kurt's getting older, Burt, and he's starting to ask questions. He's a smart boy. What am I supposed to tell him when he asks where you are? When he wonders why you've missed out on yet another moment of his life? You've already missed so many—his first steps, his first word, his first day of kindergarten! How many others are you going to miss? What happened today can't happen again. He's old enough now that he's starting to notice things. You should have seen how upset he was—how disappointed he was!—when you didn't show up. _We_—me and Kurt—we have to be your first priority."

Kurt was so very confused. He didn't understand what they were talking about for the most part, but he knew that it wasn't good especially the part when his mom said something about his dad being killed. He knew that that meant dead, but it was different. It wasn't like when Maria, his dog, died last year. She'd been really old. It was like in one of those crime shows that his mom loved to watch. He wasn't allowed to watch, but sometimes he would sneak downstairs, like he was doing then, and listen. So he knew that being killed was when someone was dead because of something that someone else did. Just thinking about his dad being dead—killed or otherwise—made his stomach ache, and his chest feel all tight like when he was about to cry.

"You think I don't know that?" his dad said, raising his voice for the first time. "You think I don't regret missing out on those things? Damn it, Mollie, you know how much I love him? You _are _my priority; why else would I be doing this? I'm trying to keep you—both of you—safe! I'm trying to make the world a safer place for him."

He couldn't help it when he felt his eyes begin to burn with tears because he'd never heard his dad yell before—not ever—and now he was yelling at his mom. Kurt didn't like it. It scared him. The things they were talking about scared him. His dad being hurt scared him. Thinking about his dad being dead scared him. Before he even knew what was happening, huge gulping sobs were pouring out from him.

It only took a minute or so for his mom to move from she was sitting on the couch to where he was huddled on the staircase. She took one look at him and scooped him into her arms. His dad joined them a minute later, wrapping his arms around both of them. Together they took him back up to his room, soothed his tears, and tucked him into bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Of Fathers and Sons

By _Koinaka _

By the pricking of my thumbs,  
Something wicked this way comes.  
-_Macbeth, Act IV, scene 1, lines 44-45_

Chapter Two

It wasn't until two weeks before his tenth birthday that Kurt thought about his dad being different again.

His dad was on a business trip, the first one that he'd taken in months, and he wasn't due home for another two days after which they would be leaving for a long needed vacation to Disney World. That left the two of them—Kurt and his mom—to work at the shop while he was gone.

Now, normally Kurt loved to work at the shop, but with Disney World looming over him, he could scarcely sit still, so he spent the better part of the day bouncing around and asking his mom—over and over again—when his dad was going to be home.

"In two days," his mom told him each time, but each time her tone became closer and closer to what Kurt called her "no nonsense tone."

When it did, finally, become her "no nonsense tone," Kurt stopped asking and instead slouched sullenly down on the couch in the office, the map of the Magic Kingdom spread in front of him. The map had come in their vacation planning guide, and Kurt had done little else but look at it for days. Most of the time, he wanted to look at it, but on this day, he was feeling particularly restless, so it went mostly untouched.

He missed his dad. He had only been gone a week, but everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong. It started off with an electrical storm that left them without power for nearly a day and had gone downhill from there. Plus, his mom seemed really worried about something, and every night since that electrical storm, she spent _hours _on the phone when she thought Kurt wasn't listening talking to someone named Bobby. When she wasn't on the phone, she was staring at the window. One time, Kurt had even caught her crying. She had denied it, but Kurt hadn't believed her.

He flipped through the channels on the small TV his dad kept in the office, but something must have been wrong with it because there was just static on every channel. Next he tried his dad's computer, but the same thing happened. There was another computer out front, but that was strictly for business. The one in his office was for Kurt and his mom to use when they were there. He dug his iPod out from his pants pocket only to discover that it, too, was messed up. He ended up just lying on the couch and staring up at the ceiling until he got hungry.

There was a pizza place next door where he always ate lunch at when he was at the shop. Now that he was nearly ten, he was allowed to walk over there—and stay inside the entire time!—alone. His mom waved him away, too distracted by a customer complaining on the phone to give him the usual warnings.

The normally bustling shop was nearly empty. Besides the workers, there was only one other customer there. Kurt wouldn't have even taken a second look at the customer if it hadn't been for his eyes. He had _yellow _eyes. Not just the normal part of his eye, though, but all of it. At least that's what Kurt thought, but when he turned and looked again, the man's eyes were normal. He shrugged it off and sat down at his normal table.

"Hey kid," Lucy called. "Want the usual?"

Kurt nodded eagerly. Lucy made the best veggie pizza he'd ever had. Not that he'd had much, but still it was pretty good.

"Hello Kurt."

Surprised, Kurt spun around to where the man was sitting. "How'd you know my name?" he asked suspiciously.

The man smiled. It was a friendly sort of smile but it made Kurt feel funny. It made him feel cold all over—like he'd never be happy again. Like the dementors made Harry Potter feel. "Oh, I know all about you. Like that your birthday is coming up. Me and your daddy are real close. Best friends, you might even say."

Kurt relaxed at once. Anyone who was friends with his dad couldn't be too bad—even if he made Kurt feel weird. The man continued to smile. "I was hoping you might give your daddy a message for me."

"Sure," Kurt said.

He gave messages to his dad all the time when he worked at the shop. Hummel Tire and Lube was the only mechanics shop in their home town of Dell Rapids, South Dakota, so his dad had tons of customers, and he considered nearly all of them his friends. Before the man could give him the message though, Lucy brought over his drink and a basket of bread-sticks for him to eat while waiting on the pizza.

Kurt loved Lucy. Her hair was fuchsia, and her nose was pierced twice. She was in college, but she didn't talk to him like he was a little kid. On the rare occasions that his parents went out, Lucy would come over and babysit him.

"So, word on the street is that you and yours are goin' to Disney World. You excited?" Lucy asked, setting Kurt's plate down in front of him and then plopping down in the empty chair across from him.

He nodded again. "As soon as my dad comes home, we're going to leave. We have to drive all the way there 'cause my dad's afraid of airplanes. Mom says it'll take hours and hours, but that's okay."

They talked about Disney World for a few more minutes before she had to go back to work and Kurt had to go back to the shop.

He didn't think anything more about the yellow-eyed man until his mom was tucking him into bed that night.

"I saw one of dad's friends today," he told her around a yawn. "At the pizza place. He said he had a message for him, but he never gave it to me. Guess it wasn't too important."

She gave him a fond smile and smoothed the hair away from his before dropping a soft kiss there. "Oh really? Who was it?"

"Dunno. He didn't tell me his name. He knew mine though."

His mom was quiet for a minute. "Did he?"

Kurt nodded and moved over so his mom could climb in beside him for their nightly chapter of _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_.

"Well, whatever he wanted must not have been very important. Otherwise, he wouldn't have forgotten to tell you. Now, then, let's see where we were…"

He liked it well enough when his dad read to him, but he loved it when it was his mom's turn. She always did all of the voices, and he especially loved how she did Hermione. The chapter was over much too soon, and then Kurt was left with the prospect of going to sleep alone. It was one of the few rules he had to follow. He wasn't allowed in his mom and dad's room for any reason even to sleep when he had a nightmare or his dad wasn't home, because that was their personal space. Most of the time he didn't care about that rule, but that night he didn't want to be alone.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

His mom sighed. "You know the rules, kiddo."

"Yeah. Okay. Can the light stay on then?"

Kurt had never been afraid of the dark—even when he was a little kid, and he definitely wasn't a little kid now. He was nearly ten, but he really, _really, _didn't want to be in the dark that night. Almost as much as he didn't want to be alone.

His mom gave him a shrewd look. "What's all this about?"

He shrugged. "I just…don't feel right."

"Don't feel right," she echoed in an odd voice. "Right how?"

Another shrug. "Like how I felt before when I was talking to Dad's friend. You know, the man with the yellow eyes."

The heavy hardcover version of _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix _slipped from his mom's hand and clattered to the ground, startling him. When he looked up at his mom, her face was pale.

"What. Did. You. Say?" she asked him slowly, enunciating each word until they sounded like separate sentences.

"Dad's friend. The one who wanted me to give him a message. He had yellow eyes. Or I think he did."

There was a loud crash in the living room and another in the guest room.

His mom spun around, her eyes darting around the room as if she expected there to be another person in the room. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him out of his bed. When he let out a whimper of pain, she covered his mouth up with her hand.

"I need you to listen to me, and do exactly what I say. Can you do that? Nod your head if you understand."

Kurt nodded. His heart was thudding painfully in his chest.

"When I let go of you, I need you to run to my bedroom. Don't look back, and don't stop. Now, when you get inside, you're going to see a door. You open that door, and go into that room. Once you're in, close it. You'll have to pull really hard because it's heavy. Don't leave that room, no matter what you hear, baby. You understand?"

He nodded again.

She let him go and tucked something into the pocket of his pajamas as she pulled something from her socks. It was a knife, but not like a normal knife. He stared at it for a minute, but then took off down the hallway at a run. The door was there just like she said, but it wasn't wooden like a real door. It was made of some kind of metal. It _was _heavy, but with a little bit of work he managed to close it. There was a spinning handle on the other side that spun automatically when he closed it.

No sooner had he closed the door did the screaming start.

He tried to open it back, even though his mom had told him not to, but it wouldn't budge. He banged on it, pounded on it, until his fists were bleeding, screaming and crying as he did, but nothing happened. No one could hear him, not over his mom's screams. They went on for what felt like hours until they suddenly stopped—cut off abruptly mid-scream.

Exhausted and terrified, Kurt sank down onto the floor and slumped against the door. That was when he remembered that his mom had put something into his pocket.

It was her cell phone.

He opened it with one hand while trying to wipe his tears off of his face with the other. His dad's number was the first on her contact list, but there was no answer. He called it over and over again, but each time it just rang and rang until it went to voicemail.

He tried one last time, and this time someone did answer on the first ring. "Mollie? This better be important, we're in the middle of a hunt!"

The voice was all wrong. It wasn't his dad, and he really, really, really wanted to talk to his dad. "Daddy," he said finally, his voice thick with tears, "I need to talk to my daddy."

He could hear some shuffling on the other side of the receiver, and then someone else spoke into the phone.

"Kurt, is that you?"

The moment he heard his dad's voice, he dissolved into hysterics. He tried to tell him what was wrong, what had happened, but all he could do was sob, "_Daddy, daddy, daddy" _over and over again. It had been a long time since he had called his dad daddy because he was getting older—he was almost ten now—and only little kids did that but right then he didn't care.

"Hey now, buddy, what's this? What's wrong? Where's your mom? Come on, are you okay?"

Kurt shook his head, but then, after realizing that his dad couldn't see him, he opened his mouth and told him everything that had happened. He was nearly finished telling him when something banged on the door that he was leaning against. He shrieked and scurried across the room until he was underneath some kind of table. He pulled his legs against him and hugged them as tight as he could.

"—Kurt, can you hear me? Answer me, damn it!"

"Yeah."

"Okay, good. I'm on my way back right now, but it'll take me a little while to get there. I'm going to call a friend of mine over to come help you. He'll look after you until I can get there. Just, whatever you do, stay where you are until he gets there. His name is Bobby." There was a long pause. "I love you, Kurt. I promise, when this is over, that everything'll be different."


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry for the delay! I was caught up in my other fics, and then I was stuck. Not sure if I like the direction I'm taking this in yet or not. Any feedback would be lovely.

Some new warnings: Don't think I need to say that it's AU. I'm going to readjust the timeline a bit. Season 4 of Supernatural now coincides with Season 1 of Glee which means that Lucifer rises approximately at the end of Season 1. I will keep some canon things but others I will change. Keep that in mind when reading this chapter.

Pairings: (For now) one-sided Lucifer/Kurt.

Of Fathers and Sons

By _Koinaka_

The truth is hiding in your eyes  
And it's hanging on your tongue  
Just boiling in my blood  
But you think that I can't see  
What kind of man that you are  
If you're a man at all  
Well, I will figure this one out  
On my own  
_-Decode, _Paramore_  
_

THEN

Kurt shook his head, but then, after realizing that his dad couldn't see him, he opened his mouth and told him everything that had happened. He was nearly finished telling him when something banged on the door that he was leaning against. He shrieked and scurried across the room until he was underneath some kind of table. He pulled his legs against him and hugged them as tight as he could.

"—Kurt, can you hear me? Answer me, damn it!"

"Yeah."

"Okay, good. I'm on my way back right now, but it'll take me a little while to get there. I'm going to call a friend of mine over to come help you. He'll look after you until I can get there. Just, whatever you do, stay where you are until he gets there. His name is Bobby." There was a long pause. "I love you, Kurt. I promise, when this is over, that everything'll be different."

NOW

Chapter Three_  
_

Kurt stayed underneath the table with his eyes squeezed shut, and his hands over his ears until everything went quiet on the other side of the door. It was quiet for a long time, and then he heard someone call his name.

"Kurt, open the door. Your daddy sent me over to see about you."

There was something familiar about that voice, but he couldn't hear it very well, muffled through the door as it was, so he didn't think much about it. Besides, his dad had said that he was sending someone over, hadn't he? So this was probably that Bobby guy. Still, he approached the door carefully, eyeing it skeptically.

"Bobby? Is that you?" he asked.

There was a second of hesitation before the person replied. "You betcha, kiddo. Now, open the door."

Kurt sagged with relief before his eyes welled up with tears. "I don't know how!" he wailed. "I tried to earlier, but I couldn't. I—I think it's stuck."

He was tugging uselessly at the handle when he saw a button that he hadn't noticed before. He pressed it and the handle spun around twice before the lock clicked. Without even thinking, he opened the door—only to find no one standing there. He leaned over the threshold just a little to check one side first and then the other.

Nothing.

No one was there.

"Hello Kurt."

He jerked his head towards the sound of the voice speaking. In his haste, he stumbled out of the strange room. He blinked as he entered the brightness of his parents' room, and then his eyes widened in horror as he saw the yellow-eyed man leaning against the wall.

"Remember me?" the man asked, his mouth spreading into a wide smile.

"You're not Bobby," Kurt said, his tone accusatory. He might not know what Bobby looked like, but his mom had been really scared when he mentioned the yellow-eyed man, so he didn't think his dad would send him over to check on him. He stumbled backward in an attempt at escaping only to run into a hard body.

Before he was able to do anything further, the person behind him gripped him tight. He struggled and thrashed in their arms to no avail. The yellow-eyed man studied him avidly.

"You are the spitting image of your mother, you know. You don't exactly fit the formula, kiddo, but what can I say? I always was a sucker for those Campbell girls."

"Let me go!" Kurt shrieked as the man drew closer to him.

But the yellow-eyed man only cocked his head to the side and smiled. "No need to be so rude. You and I are going to be good friends. In fact, I'm even going to give you a gift." He paused. "It might hurt just a bit, but hey, no pain no gain, right?"

Kurt shook his head, tears rolling down his face. "No, no, no, no," he chanted. His leg shot out and connected with the man's knee when he got within arm's length of him.

"That's unfriendly," the man said, his expression wounded. "I was hoping to do this the easy way, but if you insist…"

Suddenly the arms holding him disappeared, but before Kurt was able to run away—or anything else—he found himself pressed against the wall unable to move.

"Let's get started then."

And Kurt screamed and screamed and screamed.

SIX YEARS LATER

There was an empty space in Kurt's head where there should be memories. That, he knew, without a doubt. What those memories were was a different matter. He thought that, maybe, it had something to do with his mother's death, but he couldn't be sure.

He had tried asking his father, over and over again, but every time he did, his dad would say the same thing: "She had cancer, Kurt. You know that."

And Kurt did know that. Well, he knew that was what his dad had told him, but he didn't remember anything about it—didn't remember treatments or doctor's visits, or even a funeral. He didn't remember much of his childhood at all. There were bits and pieces—mere flashes—that he could sometimes remember, but mostly it was just nothing.

Sometimes he thought that maybe he could actually remember something if they didn't move around so much because maybe then he would have a point of reference, the ability to say that this place was different than the last place, or maybe just the ability to see something familiar that might bring on other memories. He never had an opportunity to test out that theory because they moved every six months without fail, each city just a little bit worse than the one before but all of them tiny little towns spread out from the west coast to the east.

That wasn't the only unexplainable thing in Kurt's life. There was also a scar on his inner thigh that he didn't remember receiving, a scar that looked remarkably like a brand of some sort. It was a symbol, that much he knew, but he couldn't remember how he had gotten it, and once again, his dad refused to talk about it.

Then there were the nightmares.

For as long as he could remember he'd had the most horrific nightmares. He didn't always remember them—in fact, most of the time he would wake up in the morning with just a lingering sense of dread and a pair of yellow eyes burning bright in the dark—the ones he did remember though were of a massacre in a convent, and a voice coming out of a nun that did _not _belong to her. Whenever he had the nightmare about the convent—about the voice—his scar would burn white hot.

He never told his dad about the nightmares or the scar burning. If he could keep secrets, well, then so could Kurt.

They settled into Lima, Ohio the summer before he started high school. His dad bought a house and a business, and for once everything was looking up for Kurt because his dad, who had always shied away from any kind of purchase that left a paper trail, had purchased two such items in a week.

Freshman year went by in a blur of classes and hours spent with his dad at Hummel Tire and Lube. He didn't have many friends, but he was happy. Mostly. There was a part of him that still expected them to move after six months like always, but when the sixth month mark came and went with no sign of moving, Kurt finally allowed himself to relax.

His sophomore year started off better than his freshman year. He made friends and joined the Glee club. He watched with amusement as his new friends fell prey to relationship drama never wondering why he hadn't had so much as a crush on another boy. The Glee Club performed—and won!—at Sections despite Mr. Schuester being disqualified and the whole Babygate fiasco. He joined the Cheerios with Mercedes and was finally able to get the recognition he deserved. Kurt was actually _happy_. For once in his entire life, he was completely content.

Then things began to go downhill.

His dad started to act strange. He would call Kurt multiple times to check on him when he was out with friends, and even though Kurt and the Cheerios had worked really hard on their routine—during which Kurt was to have a 14 minute _solo_—his dad refused to let him go. Stranger still was the fact that he only objected after hearing that the event would be televised.

"Why does that matter" had been Kurt's question because _really? _It was completely ridiculous. So it was going to be televised? It didn't seem like such a huge deal to him.

His dad had looked like a deer caught in the headlights at that which only meant one thing: his reluctance had something to do with whatever it was that he was hiding. Still, try as he might, Kurt hadn't been able to convince his dad to let him go which made him extremely unpopular at school—even more so after the Cheerios lost Nationals and Coach Sylvester blamed the loss entirely on Kurt's absence.

As the end of the school year approached, Kurt noticed other strange things. Like the steady stream of phone calls his dad received on a cell phone that was not his own—not his normal cell at any rate. Like the fact that sometimes he thought he could feel eyes on him when no one was around. Like the fact that his scar ached almost constantly now for no reason at all.

May 13th had started off the same as any other day. Kurt took breakfast to his dad at the shop before heading to school himself. He spent the rest of the day fighting to stay awake. The night before he had been plagued by a series of nightmares that had terrified him at the time although now, hours after waking, their contents eluded him. When school was finally over, he begged off the shopping trip he was supposed to take with Tina and Mercedes and went home to find a man he'd never seen before sitting in the living room talking to his dad.

The two men stopped talking abruptly the moment he walked through the door.

"I thought you were going to the mall," his dad said.

Kurt shook his head. "I wasn't feeling very well, so I thought I would come home. Maybe take a nap before dinner."

His eyes flitted between his dad and the man until his dad finally cleared his throat and introduced him. "Kurt, this is one of my business partners, Bobby Singer. Bobby, this is Kurt."

Kurt shook Bobby's hand briefly, studying the man as he did. Bobby was staring at him in a way that made him very uncomfortable; as if he was afraid Kurt would blink out of existence right in front of him.

"Silent partner," Bobby added when Kurt gave his dad a dubious look. Kurt knew his dad's business like the back of his hand, and this was the first he'd heard of a business partner.

"Prospective," his dad corrected. "I'm thinking of expanding the shop. You know, adding another location."

"Well," Kurt said slowly. "That's not a bad idea. I'll just go downstairs and leave you two to it."

When Kurt came back upstairs, the man was gone and his dad was cooking dinner. That, in and of itself, was worrying because his dad _really _didn't know how to cook. In fact, sometimes Kurt wondered how they had even survived the years before he learned how to cook himself.

"I, uh, thought we could have some of that vegetarian lasagna you like so much."

"Sounds good. I think we have the stuff for a salad, too," Kurt said arching an eyebrow and studying his dad for a moment.

Kurt wasn't lying because it _did _sound good… but it also set off warning bells in his head. He could count on one hand the number of times his dad had cooked in the last year, and all of those meals were definitely not the sort of cuisine that Kurt preferred as they mostly involved red meat that could be cooked on the grill. Suffice it to say that his dad voluntarily making anything even remotely similar to vegetarian lasagna was suspect.

The two men set about preparing dinner in a comfortable silence, but Kurt knew that it was only a matter of time before his dad brought up whatever it was that was on his mind.

Just as Kurt suspected, his dad brought it up as they were sitting down to eat.

"I have to go away for a few days," he said in between chewing a mouthful of lasagna and scooping up the sauce with a piece of garlic bread. "With Bobby. To see about the new location."

"Hmm," Kurt replied, tilting his head to the side and looking at his dad's blank face. "And you don't mind me staying here alone?"

His dad's expression turned uncomfortable. "I don't want you to stay here alone, no, but I don't have any other choice, now, do I?"

Kurt shrugged. "I guess not. How long do you think you should be gone?"

"A few days, maybe. We'll leave in the morning." He paused. "I want you to come straight home from school. No going out with Mercedes or Tina. Just school and back."

A frown tugged at the corner of his lips. "What about Glee?"

His dad let out a heavy sigh. "Fine. Glee then straight back home. No funny business. I'll have Mike check in on you every once in a while, and if you have any trouble, I want you to give him a call."

Mike was the assistant manager at the shop. He was a loud, boisterous man who reminded Kurt of Paul Bunyan. He was more than a little rough around the edges, but Kurt liked him, especially since the man had taken his advice on how to effectively clean the grease stains off of his hands and coveralls.

"Why would I have any trouble, Dad?" he asked.

Lima wasn't exactly a sleepy city, but everyone pretty much kept to themselves. Plus, it wasn't like he had any enemies, was it? One thing his dad had drilled in him over and over again through the years was to blend in. He didn't do a perfect job of it—his fashion sense wouldn't allow that—but he managed to skirt through school without much torment other than some ridicule from the jocks about the Glee Club. Every once in a while he would hear someone mutter a derogatory name as he passed through the hallways, but no one ever said anything like that to his face

He pressed his lips together into a thin line but made no response.

"It'll be fine," Kurt told him as he began clearing the table. "Really."

His dad didn't look convinced, but Kurt just shrugged it off. It was _Lima_, for crying out loud. What could possibly happen in Lima?


	4. Chapter 4

I just wanted to thank everyone for reading and reviewing! It always means a lot to me. Now, some people had some questions about the previous chapter. What Azazel meant by Campbell girls is that Kurt's mom is Mary's younger sister. I know that she doesn't have a sister in canon, but this is AU as I think most people realize. I will go into the history more later, I promise, but for now just know that Kurt's mom was a Campbell making him Sam & Dean's cousin.

Also, yes, this doesn't make Kurt old enough to be part of Sam's group of psychic kids, but we know from Azazel that there have been other generations both before and after Sam's.

If I haven't made it clear before, I'll go ahead and do so now. This is AU for Glee. Some events happened the same way they did before, some didn't. It is AU for Supernatural as well going off track at 5.01 especially but some stuff before and after as well. I have also taken liberties with vessels as well. Mostly in regards to family lines. Since John, Dean, and Adam all have the ability to be Michael's vessel, I am assuming that that is a trait passed along through the Winchester line, and since Sam is Lucifer's vessel, I'm assuming that it is a trait passed down through the Campbell line.

I hope this doesn't turn anyone away from reading.

Of Fathers and Sons

By _Koinaka_

The truth is hiding in your eyes  
And it's hanging on your tongue  
Just boiling in my blood  
But you think that I can't see  
What kind of man that you are  
If you're a man at all  
Well, I will figure this one out  
On my own  
_-Decode, _Paramore_  
_

THEN

Lima wasn't exactly a sleepy city, but everyone pretty much kept to themselves. Plus, it wasn't like he had any enemies, was it? One thing his dad had drilled in him over and over again through the years was to blend in. He didn't do a perfect job of it—his fashion sense wouldn't allow that—but he managed to skirt through school without much torment other than some ridicule from the jocks about the Glee Club. Every once in a while he would hear someone mutter a derogatory name as he passed through the hallways, but no one ever said anything like that to his face

He pressed his lips together into a thin line but made no response.

"It'll be fine," Kurt told him as he began clearing the table. "Really."

His dad didn't look convinced, but Kurt just shrugged it off. It was _Lima_, for crying out loud. What could possibly happen in Lima?

NOW

It wasn't unusual for Kurt to hear nothing but silence when he first woke up in the morning since not only was his bedroom in the basement it was completely soundproofed as well, so he didn't know anything was amiss the next morning until he had gotten ready for the day and climbed the stairs to leave the basement.

The first thing he noticed when he opened that door was that there was a large bag of Morton's rock salt leaning against the wall directly next to the door. The next thing he noticed was that he was that he was standing in salt as there was, for some reason, salt poured in front of his door.

"Huh," he said, curiously, stepping over the salt and into the rest of the house proper.

The door to the basement was in the kitchen so, normally when he first came upstairs, he would see his dad either drinking coffee and reading the newspaper at the table or in the process of making breakfast. This morning, however, he saw neither. The kitchen was empty, though nearly every cabinet door was open. Thinking that perhaps his dad had been looking for something, he shrugged that off, closed the cabinets and continued on through the house.

His breath _whooshed_ out when he came to the living room. It was a mess. The coffee table was overturned and several of the picture frames had fallen off the wall and shattered, just to name a few things.

He called out for his dad, but when there was no response he ran to his bedroom. The door was open, revealing to Kurt that the room was in same state of upheaval as the living room. The only difference was the line of blood that began near the bed and ended at the large bay window—the large _broken_ bay window.

This was not an unfamiliar scene to him. He had seen his dad's bedroom like this before—in his nightmares the night before.

Eyes wide with horror, Kurt backed out of the room only to collide with someone. He let out a strangled scream and spun around to find himself face-to-face with the man from the night before—his dad's prospective silent partner, Bobby Singer.

"Oh," he breathed out a sigh of relief. "It's you."

"You okay, kid?" he asked.

Kurt nodded. "My dad's not here, though," he told the man, a bit inanely as that much was patently clear. "I think something really bad might have happened to him."

"Damn!" the man muttered, looking past Kurt and into the bedroom. He walked over to the window ledge and slid his fingers across it. Then, he did the strangest thing—he sniffed them.

"We should call the police," Kurt said as Bobby, who actually, now that he thought about it, looked more like a trucker than any sort of business man, wiped his hands on his jeans.

"Ain't nothing the police can do for your daddy now," he said gruffly.

Kurt just gaped at the man. "Are you suggestion that I do nothing when it's obvious that something's happened to my dad—that someone's done something to him? I mean you saw the mess and the blood! He could be hurt, he could be _dead_ for all you know. We can't just sit here and do nothing!"

Bobby shook his head. "Didn't say that either, but the police can't do anything to what's got your daddy. There aren't many who can."

Kurt's breath hitched in his throat. "I don't understand."

The older man gave him a sympathetic look. "I know you don't. I'll explain it as best I can, but we need to get out of here before it comes back."

"Wait—_we_? I'm sorry, but I have no intention of leaving with you. I don't even know you. For all I know, _you_ could have been the one to do this!" Kurt exclaimed, moving away from the man.

"You wanna wait around for whatever did this to come back?" he asked, giving Kurt a pointed look. "Thought so," he said when Kurt shook his head.

Kurt studied Bobby for a moment, his eyes narrowed. "You're not a prospective silent partner, are you? You're one of Dad's friends from _before_, right? From before I lost my memories?"

Bobby's face went blank, but he did nod, warily. "That's right."

"Okay," he exhaled harshly. "I'll need to pack some things if I'm going to leave."

Bobby looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn't. He just followed Kurt down to the basement and watched while Kurt began tossing clothes and shoes into one suitcase and his toiletries into another. After so many moves, Kurt was practically a packing pro. Of course he wasn't under duress during those moves, so now all he could do was cram all of the clothes he could fit into a suitcase with absolutely no finesse, and even then he was only able to take a portion of what he owned. Then he grabbed his satchel and stuffed his iPod and cell phone in it alongside his laptop.

When he was finished, he took one last look around his room. They had lived at this house for longer than they had lived anywhere else—since his mom died, at least—and it, more than any other place, felt like home to him. He almost couldn't bear the thought of leaving because he had the most awful feeling that it was the last time he would ever see this place again.

Not to mention his dad, but he couldn't think about that then—especially not when Bobby was driving down the interstate like a bat out of hell.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

Bobby took his eyes off the road for a moment and studied Kurt. "I'm taking you to my house in South Dakota. You'll be safe enough there."

Kurt's eyes widened. "Safe from _what_? Do you think that whatever got dad'll come looking for me?"

There was a pause. "It's possible."

Kurt didn't say anything for a long time. "I think he knew," he said, quietly, never taking his eyes off the road in front of him.

"Come again?"

Kurt took a deep breath. "I think my dad knew something was going to happen. He's been acting strange lately. Really protective—more so than usual," he clarified because his dad had always been protective of him.

"Could be," Bobby said evasively.

Kurt scowled. Bobby's tone was the same tone of voice that his dad used when telling him about his mother's death. It meant, more than likely, that he was lying. Sensing that he wouldn't get any more information from the man, Kurt put his headphones in and spent the next few hours listening to his iPod and watching as they drove further and further away from Ohio.

They were eating lunch in a tiny diner when Bobby's cell phone rang. After a short, cryptic conversation, he headed for the bathroom. When he came out, almost twenty minutes after going in, he ushered Kurt out of the diner and back into the car. "Change of plans," he said. "We've gotta head to Maryland."

Kurt froze where he was standing near the car. "Maryland?" he asked. "I thought you said you were taking me some place safe!"

"I did, and I am," Bobby said, irritation bleeding into his voice.

But Maryland wasn't safe—not at all. He wasn't sure why, but the thought of going to Maryland terrified him, absolutely terrified him. Maybe it was because a lot of his nightmares took place in Maryland, he wasn't sure. He only knew that he didn't want to be anywhere near there.

That feeling didn't go away. In fact, the closer they got to Maryland, the worse it got. He tried sleeping, but his dreams were filled with blood and a priest with yellow-eyes. There was something else tugging at his consciousness—something about another man with yellow-eyes—but whenever Kurt tried to focus in on it, it all just disappeared.

Not only was he plagued with nightmares when he slept, but when he was awake, he was plagued by the sense of eyes on him. Not Bobby's but someone else's which was just insane because no one else was there. Bobby was acting decidedly odd as well. He kept clenching and unclenching both his fists and his jaw, and once Kurt had been absolutely sure that his eyes had flashed black, but then the next time he looked they were back to normal, so he just chalked it up to a figment of his imagination or maybe just the light catching his eye wrong.

Kurt was jarred awake when the car came to a stop. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly against the harsh fluorescent light of a motel vacancy sign.

"Come on, kid. I'll order us up a pizza after we get settled in."

Kurt nodded. He slung his satchel over his shoulder and followed Bobby into the motel room.

Kurt didn't think it was possible for him to be so exhausted when all he had done all day long was sit, but still, somehow, he managed it. He was practically asleep on his feet as he showered and completed his moisturizing routine as well as he could given the limited amount of products he had been able to bring with him. He was asleep before his head even touched the pillow. After a day of falling into a nightmare each time he dozed off, he expected to find himself right back in the middle of one, but instead, he found himself dreaming about his mother for the first time in years.

She was just as young and bright and pretty in person—well, in dream—as she was in the pictures his dad kept put away. She was also not alone. There was a young boy with her. It was himself, he realized after a second glance.

Maybe this wasn't a dream after all. Maybe this was a _memory_.

His mom swung young Kurt around causing him to giggle loudly. "You're special, Kurt," she was saying as she continued to spin round and round and round. "So special."

Then his mom looked at him—the real him and not his dream self—and smiled, but there was something off about it. It was almost as if it was a copy of his mother's smile instead of the real thing. This must be a dream after all and not a memory.

Still smiling the not-quite-real smile, she came closer until she was close enough to touch Kurt.

"You're right. You _are _dreaming. I'm not your mom, Kurt," she said. "I'm an angel."

"Angels don't exist," he said straight away.

His mom's expression softened. "I understand why you would think so, but we do exist. My name is Lucifer, and I am an angel."

When Kurt didn't respond, she continued. "I'm here because you're special, Kurt. There are very, very, few people like you."

"Why?" Kurt asked before he could stop himself.

"You're a vessel. A very powerful vessel."


	5. Chapter 5

I want to apologize for the length of time between the updates! Grad school is killing me. Hopefully the next update will be much faster. Fall break is coming up, so I'm hoping to get some writing done then. Also, sorry about the length. Felt right to end it there, and my writing is feeling a little rusty.

So far as canon events go, this does, loosely, take place during 5.01, but the timeline and events within 5.01 have been altered slightly.

Anyway, enjoy!

Of Fathers and Sons

By _Koinaka ___

_By the pricking of my thumbs,__  
__Something wicked this way comes._  
_-Macbeth, Act IV, scene 1, lines 44-45_

THEN

"You're right. You _are _dreaming. I'm not your mom, Kurt," she said. "I'm an angel."

"Angels don't exist," he said straight away.

His mom's expression softened. "I understand why you would think so, but we do exist. My name is Lucifer, and I am an angel."

When Kurt didn't respond, she continued. "I'm here because you're special, Kurt. There are very, very, few people like you."

"Why?" Kurt asked before he could stop himself.

"You're a vessel. A very powerful vessel."

NOW

"I don't understand. What does that mean?"

The thing—angel, if it was telling the truth—wearing his mother's face moved closer to Kurt and traced the lines of his cheekbone with one of her fingers. Kurt's eyes fluttered close at her touch. "I need to take control of your mind and body, Kurt,"

Kurt's eyes widened as he stumbled backwards away from his false mother. "Why?" he breathed.

"Don't be afraid. I would never hurt you," she promised. "Or lie to you. I need your body so that I can hold my father accountable for his actions. He betrayed me, just as your father betrayed you. Your mother didn't die of cancer, but you've already knew that, didn't you? Don't you want to know what else he's lied to you about? What else he's been keeping from you? I can tell you. I _want _to tell you. You deserve to know the truth."

Kurt said nothing for a long moment. "You know?" he asked, his voice trembling. "How she really died?" he clarified.

"I do."

"And," he paused once more, taking in a shuddering breath, "about the other things? My missing memories and the dreams?"

"Not missing," she corrected. She tapped a long finger against the side of Kurt's head. "Locked away—and yes, I do. It won't be pleasant, but if you want, I can give them back to you. I will give you everything you want—everything."

"Oh," Kurt exhaled heavily and asked the question that he was most afraid of asking. "Do you know…is my dad alive?"

"He is alive but gravely injured. I'm sorry," she said, and she did look it.

Kurt shook his head, blinking furiously at the tears welling up in his eyes. "You said that you could give me everything—I don't want everything. I just want him. He's—he's all I have."

"You have such loyalty to your father even though has done nothing but lie to you and betray you over and over again. You and I have more in common than you could ever know," the angel murmured, almost beneath her breath. She seemed lost in thought for a moment. "Without a body, I cannot give you back your father, but he is not your only remaining family. Your mother had a sister, and though she died, her two sons live on—Sam and Dean Winchester."

"And with a body? Could you do it with a body? With my body? Could you save my father if you had _my_ body?"

The angel leveled him with a steadfast look. "Yes, easily, but you have to say yes, Kurt. You have to invite me in."

"And what happens to me?" Kurt asked. "When you take over my body?" he clarified at the angel's confused look.

"You'll simply go to sleep," the angel told him, giving him a warm smile. "And, perhaps, if you wanted, I could construct some sort of artificial reality for you."

"Would I know that it wasn't real?"

The angel shook her head. "You need never know," she said gently. "Not if you'd rather not."

"I…" Kurt trailed off as an odd sensation pulsed through him. It was almost as if someone was calling him.

The angel tilted her head to the side and sighed. "Always interfering," she said before disappearing, leaving Kurt alone in his dreams.

Only moment after the angel's disappearance, the odd sensation once again pulsed through him, but this time it pulled him closer and closer to consciousness until he was awake, his eyes fluttering open and close. His body felt heavy, as if he had been asleep for ages instead of just hours. It took a moment for his vision to focus, and when it finally did, he noticed that Bobby Singer was standing over him, an inexplicable look on his face.

"Been trying to wake you up for over an hour, boy," he said, his voice gruff and his expression more than a little wary. "You've been asleep for nearly fifteen hours."

"Huh," Kurt said.

Fifteen hours and yet he still felt sleepy. More than that, he felt like there was something he ought to be doing right now, as if Bobby waking him up had interrupted something very important.

He didn't have too long to wonder what had been interrupted because soon there was a knock at the door.

"Must be the pizza I ordered," Bobby said answering Kurt's unasked question.

"I think I'll just go take a shower before eating." He grabbed a set of clean clothes and his toiletry bag before locking himself into the bathroom.

When he turned off the shower nearly half an hour later, Kurt could hear low voices in the next room, but he was quick to dismiss the idea that there were visitors. It was much likelier that Bobby was on the phone. After all, he often made phone calls when he thought Kurt wasn't around.

He dressed quickly and opened the door to find that Bobby was _not _alone. Instead, he was standing with two other men, one ridiculously tall and the other ridiculously good looking, both of which were pointing guns at him.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, surprised, as he shuffled backward towards the bathroom.

Bobbly let out an exasperated noise. "Put the guns away, you idjits. This is the boy I was telling you about, Kurt. Kurt, these two numbskulls over here are your—"

"Cousins," Kurt said before he could stop himself. At Bobby's surprised look, he continued. "That's right, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but how'd you know?"

Kurt shrugged. "Just knew, I suppose." It was true enough. He wasn't sure how he knew only that he did.

The three men exchanged pointed looks but said nothing.

"I'm Sam," the taller one said extending his hand so Kurt could shake it. Hesitating only slightly, Kurt did so. There was something strange about Sam, something _familiar_ about him that Kurt couldn't put his finger on.

"Dean," the other one supplied briskly, but he didn't offer his hand. He was studying Kurt intently, an odd look on his face. "He looks a lot like Mom," he admitted, finally, reluctance heavy in his voice. "Their eyes are the same."

Kurt cocked his head to the side. "Did you know my mom then?" he asked curiously.

Dean paused before shaking his head. "I remember your dad though. He used to hunt with our dad."

"Really?" Sam asked, a surprised look on his face. "You never told me that."

"Yeah, well, Sammy, there's a lot you never told me either." Dean sighed. "Now, if we're done with this little family reunion, we need to hit the road."

Kurt's eyes widened. "Wait—_what_? Where are we going? Not to Maryland, right?"

He felt his breath begin to quicken when his questions went unanswered. "We can't go to Maryland," he continued, a hysteric edge to his voice.

All three men were eyeing him curiously now.

"Why not?" Sam asked.

Kurt shook his head quickly as flashes of blood and yellow-eyes flashed through his mind. "We just can't—I _can't_."

Sam approached him slowly, his hands held out in front of him as if in surrender. "We're not going to Maryland," he said in a soft reassuring voice.

Kurt drew in a deep breath. "Good," he said. "Good," he repeated once more.

"Enough talking, Sammy. We're hidden from the angels for now thanks to Cas and his little carvings, but we need to get the hell outta dodge before the demons catch up to us. Come on, kid, grab your bags, and let's go."

"Demons? Angels? You're crazy, they're not real," Kurt said at once. Flashes of a yellow-eyed man smiling at him, talking to him, filled his head. _Demon_, his mind supplied, but he ignored the thought. Demons weren't real—couldn't be real.

Could they? He remembered the odd things that Bobby had said back at his home.

_Ain't nothing the police can do for your daddy now_.

His eyes flitted from Sam to Dean before finally landing on Bobby. "It was demons that attacked my father, wasn't it?" he asked in a subdued voice.

"Yeah," Bobby said after exchanging another look with Dean and Sam. "Yeah, it was."

Something else Bobby said came back to him then.

_The police can't do nothing to what's got your daddy. There aren't many who can_.

Kurt turned to Sam. "You're going to help me find my dad, right? Bobby said the police wouldn't be any help, but you would, wouldn't you?"

It was Dean who answered though. "Look, kid, we're gonna help you, but every minute we waste here talkin' is another minute your dad spends with whatever demon took him, and trust me, you don't want that. If he's even still alive."

"_Dean!_"

Dean leveled a reproachful look at Sam that he returned twofold. "I'm just tellin' the truth, Sammy. I'm not sayin' he's dead," he told Kurt, but he didn't seem the least bit apologetic. "But demons aren't exactly known for their hospitality, if you get what I'm saying. Chances are if he's not dead already, he will be soon, so the sooner we leave, the better."

Kurt nodded, but before he could say or do anything else, the door to the motel room flew open and a dark-haired woman followed by several men entered the room.

"Hello boys," she said in a pleasant voice.


End file.
